


Axioms

by Cyndi



Series: Lightverse [6]
Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Ableism, Angst, Disability, M/M, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-08 00:33:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4283889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyndi/pseuds/Cyndi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were hideously true words that thrummed against Prowl's deepest fears. .oSLASH ProwlxJazz and a guest...fits into my Light series. o.</p>
<p>Original ff.net post date: August 3, 2008</p>
            </blockquote>





	Axioms

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: Wanted to toss in my own take on another character. This fic could safely fit into the Light series. It is intended as a thought provoker, so don't expect a lot of action.

 

An explosion and Jazz screaming were the last two things Prowl remembered. Then...pain. His systems were still sluggish from the concussive blast. Now, he found himself lying facedown on a ground that most definitely wasn't the pavement he'd been standing on. He dragged his groggy self into a sitting position and rubbed his head. Horror froze his circuits.

His visor. It was  _gone_.

Maybe the shockwaves of the explosion knocked it off. Prowl groped the space in front of him. Not there...he leaned forward on his hands and knees. It did not look dignified, crawling around on a metal floor that smelled like old oil, but the visor meant life or death for him. It covered his highly visible flaw and helped him sense his environment. He traced an increasingly larger square until he encountered a wall less than four body lengths away. Franticness entered his movements. His panic mounted while his mind raced. Another wall greeted him.

The search proved fruitless--no visor.

Prowl stood up and palmed the smooth walls until he found the door. It resisted his attempts to force it open. He tried feeling around it. Surely there was a--aha! Prowl found the keypad and was immediately dismayed to discover naked wiring dangling in the open air like lifeless tentacles.

_Guess I'll have to find another way out_.

The ceiling was within reach and lacked anything resembling grates he could kick out. He did find a light fixture that felt warm, indicating there was light present. There was no way he'd escape through the ceiling. The walls were solid sheets and he couldn't fit his fingers between the seams.

_Maybe...maybe I can rig the control panel and open this door_.

Prowl fingered the torn wires, bending each one in a different shape to keep track of them while he twisted random combinations together. He had to act or let his panic take over.

Two wires pulled a charge. He heard the door snap open and more cool air rushed in.

That  _smell_.

Prowl encountered it before. The stale scent of old metal, rust and smoke clung around every sharp edge.

_I'm on Lockdown's ship. He's seen me without my visor. He may HAVE my visor!_  Prowl bit back more terror. Lockdown might be exposing him to the Elite Guard and delivering him over for a price right this moment!

Uneasiness rippled through Prowl's fuel tank. He'd have to change his name, his appearance and disappear from society. And Jazz...what about Jazz? He and Jazz were arguing when the blast struck. Prowl had hacked into top secret records--all he wanted to know was why  _his_  creation records were tucked away while the others were not. It got Jazz into trouble with Ultra Magnus and nearly cost him his membership in the Elite Guard. He spent three days in the ship's brig because he wouldn't turn the hacker in.

And boy was he mad when he came out. So mad that the next time he and Prowl went for a drive in the city, it went from casual conversation to Jazz pinning Prowl against a building, screaming at him.

_"You're out of your mind, Prowl! Your protoform records are top secret!"_

_"I think I have a right to know my own creation date. Why was I never told about the gestalts who came after me?"_

_"They keep the flaw records secret for a reason!"_

_"Why? Because society can't stand dents in its perfection?"_

_"That's not what I said!"_

_"Yes, Jazz, you said it without saying it! You wouldn't be gritting your teeth if I wasn't right!"_

_"Prowl, if you hack the system again, I swear..."_

_"What? You swear what? That you'll turn me--"_

The explosion hit then, and all Prowl heard afterward was screaming. No time for apologies, no time to kiss and no time to say 'I love you.'

What if he never saw Jazz again? What if their last conversation was that horrible argument?

_No, focus. My visor is my main concern. If I survive this, I'll find Jazz and apologize_.

Prowl stuck his head out and listened. A wall straight ahead and air on either side--that meant a hallway. Faint clanking came from his left. He placed his hand on the wall by the door, stepped into the corridor and made his way silently towards the sound. The metal beneath his hand was scratched and dented, the edges catching on his fingertips. His lightest footsteps still caused vibrations on the floor. In fact, Prowl realized, everything seemed more inclined to vibrate than usual because the materials were so old and patchy. It worked to Prowl's advantage--he found himself memorizing the dents and cracks to use a tactile landmarks in the future.

One of his heels caught in a coiled chain lying on the floor. It made a bang that'd wake the dead. Prowl hugged the wall and waited, straining his audios for any indication of footsteps coming his way.

None did.

Maybe Lockdown wasn't onboard. Prowl had no way of knowing whether the ship was on Earth or in flight.

He found himself standing in the control room. The stench from used parts was unmistakable here. When he still heard no signs of his captor, he hurried to the shelves of trophies. Everything was so cold--the feel and smell brought uncomfortable memories bubbling to the surface. He ran his hands over every object, even turning things over to feel inside.

"Looking for something?" Lockdown's gruff voice startled ten years off Prowl's life.

Prowl spun to face him, his back smacking into the shelves in a manner that was anything but quiet.

"My visor. Where is it?"

"I have it. Oh, don't look so horrified, I won't break it." Lockdown took a step closer. "Heh, heh...oscillator technology that translates light waves into vibrations. That's _nice_. I've gotta hand it to ya, Prowl, the way you hide being flawed is airtight."

Fear left Prowl trembling inside. He didn't let it show in his face or voice. "What's your point? Are you turning me in?"

Now Lockdown feigned offense, exaggerating his vocal inflections just slightly in a way Prowl found extremely insulting. "Why would I do that?" He snorted and clicking sounds indicated he was entering a code on the computer console. "By the way, we're in orbit around Earth, so don't think about abandoning ship. You wouldn't survive re-entry. I've locked the controls. Don't try anything funny--I'll find out about it."

Prowl laid his hands flat on a shelf, his head sagging almost to his chest. A few breath cycles helped him regulate his emotions. He lifted his head to face Lockdown.

"Why am I here? What do you want?"

"To talk."

"That's it?"

"If I wanted more, you'd be missing more than your visor by now."

Lockdown had a point, as much as Prowl hated to admit it.

"I told you never to contact me again!" Prowl growled between his clenched teeth. "When I get out of here, I'll turn you in to the Elite--"

"Aw, Prowl, c'mon. Bots like us need to stick together!" Lockdown's laugh could scrape the pavement off a sidewalk. "You'd make a fortune as a bounty hunter. We could split what we get. Fifty-fifty, or--"

"I'm nothing like you!" Prowl sneered and held out his hand. "Now, return my visor, please."

"Nope."

He listened closely and detected Lockdown's servomechanisms whining in their housings. Using the sound as a guide, he launched himself at the other bot. Lockdown whirled away and Prowl felt the cold pain of Lockdown's hook smashing into his neck. He hit the floor cheek first. Dazed, he remained still.

Lockdown used his foot to roll Prowl over. "You've got some spark plugs to charge at what you can't see. Get comfortable. You aren't getting your visor back until you hear me out."

Prowl's apprehension boiled like magma shooting through his neural lines. He used Lockdown's own weight against him and flipped him over onto his back. Then he snarled, pawing at the other mech's body in attempt to find his visor. Blast, where was he hiding it? He felt him from the waist up to no avail, only gaining information about what Lockdown looked like. Bulky, misshapen, possessing a large lower jaw and an array of spikes on his throat.

"Give me my visor," Prowl whispered acidly. He grabbed two of the four spikes on Lockdown's throat and hauled his head up nose to nose, "I said--"

Lockdown flung him halfway across the room. Prowl slammed back-first into a table. Pain roared over his neural network. Reality swam as he tried to keep his sensory circuits online.

"You're more like me than you think," Lockdown said with equal venom. He paused next to his trophy shelves. Prowl heard him come closer and didn't move. There was no telling what kind of weapons Lockdown had on him now. He felt a cold hook tap on his chin. Lockdown's voice was almost directly above him. "I'm going to let you cool down, now. If you're calm when I come back, we'll talk. Try anything funny..." he spun his chainsaw blades and Prowl got the message. It didn't matter how good a ninja he was, one swipe of that saw could inflict fatal injuries.

"Why go to all this trouble just to talk to me?" Prowl muttered.

Lockdown moved away, his foreboding presence no longer a looming sound shadow by the table. "You blocked my com frequency. Had to get your attention somehow."

"Tch. Jazz will come looking for me."

"Jazz? Ohhh, the  _other_  ninja. Congratulations on the bonding. We should toast to it."

"How did you--"

"Scratches, naturally."

Prowl's hand immediately went to his chest, feeling the faint indentations. Neither he or Jazz had the heart to wax the scratches away just yet.

"Should we toast to it?"

Was Lockdown serious?

"No." Prowl growled. "I thought you were leaving me to calm down."

"Okay. Whatever. There's a case of coolant on the table next to you. See you in a bit."

The door groaned shut.

Prowl stood up carefully, testing his back struts. Sore, but functional. He stretched his hand towards the table. There was a case of coolant and two drinking containers. Prowl grabbed the nearest one, sniffing the contents to make sure it really was coolant before he started chugging. Stress left his systems running hotter than normal and the chilled liquid felt good on his tongue. He gulped down everything in the container before setting it back on the table.

His systems had almost regained their normal cycles when slow footsteps crept down the corridor.

Lockdown seated himself on the table across from Prowl. He did it so quietly that Prowl only picked it up by the moving sound shadow.

"Back so soon?"

"Eh? How'd you--"

"You changed the air flow."

Lockdown made a whistling noise. For the longest time he said nothing, though his presence remained there like a stone in fog.

"So..." Prowl faced him. "Going to let me go?"

"Are you going to shut up and let me talk?"

"Why?"

"We're kindred spirits, Prowl."

Prowl scrunched his mouth as if Lockdown's words were too sour to hear. "I fell under the spell of your mods once. Don't expect me to repeat that mistake."

"That's not what I meant. We have something in common."

"We're both loners--"

"Yeah..."

"And?"

"One more thing."

If Prowl had eyes, he would've rolled them. Lockdown's mind games wore on his overstressed processors. He existed in constant fear that someone would come up on the view screen and see him sans visor. Lockdown didn't seem aware of the danger he placed Prowl in by keeping him separated from the one thing that covered his flaw.

"You think you're so special because you're flawed. You go parading around, saying you'll turn me in to the Elite Guard. Now how would you feel if you learned later that you weeded out another flawed mech?" Lockdown's hook clicked on the table. "You, with your morals about letting the flawed live."

It rained down on Prowl like ice water. Lockdown? Flawed? No...aside from being an over-modified freak he seemed physically perfect!

Now Lockdown was pouring himself coolant. "Prowl, you're the most observant guy I know. I thought you would've figured it out yourself by now. Were you paying any attention to my ship?"

"I--" Prowl closed his mouth and rifled through his most recent memories. The walls and the floor carried vibrations like tuning forks. This whole ship acted like a spider's web, sensitive to the slightest disturbances. Such construction wouldn't be necessary unless the vibrations had a purpose. Prowl jerked his head up as the realization snapped through his mind. "You can't hear."

"Yup. Deaf as a post." Lockdown smirked. "I lost my audios to an acid spill while I was being protoformed. Medics couldn't fix it. So you use oscillators for eyes and I use 'em for ears--they synthesize speech to text and tell me what kind of sounds are happening around me. I can sense a pin drop, organic heartbeats...I'm pretty hard to sneak up on. And my throat spikes are my sensors, same as your visor."

It took Prowl several moments to digest this information. What he didn't understand was why Lockdown dragged him all the way out here just to tell him about his flaw. He voiced this uncertainty, "So what?"

"Don't you get sick of living in fear?"

"I don't--"

"You liar."

"Jazz knows and he doesn't care."

"Jazz is one in a billion," Lockdown sneered, gulping from his coolant container. "The rest of the world is just out there, waiting to pounce on bots like us. You're the first living flawed mech I've seen since the war. Of course, if you still want to turn me in, there's nothing I can do once you leave my ship."

Prowl could tell Lockdown knew his morals would prevent him from revealing him to the proper authorities. One flawed mech reporting another...it'd be sickening!

Then Lockdown's voice took on a different edge. "So, how faithful are you to your bond?"

It was a question that seared Prowl's circuits with anger. "I will  _not_  touch anyone else."

"Be real about this, Prowl." Lockdown leaned closer, close enough to kiss. "How much do you love him?"

Prowl scooted back and raised a hand between himself and Lockdown's face. "With all that I am." He growled, " _Back off_ , Lockdown."

A small part of him noted their positions in relation to the rest of the room. If Lockdown so much as  _considered_  forcing anything...well...Prowl settled one hand in his lap and wrapped his other arm around his chest to protect his Spark. Lockdown wasn't getting to either without the biggest fight of his life.

But Lockdown wasn't that type, much to Prowl's relief. The bounty hunter scraped against the table and his voice spoke from further away, "Relax, I know 'no' when I see it." And the way he sighed afterward seemed almost...sad. Could it be that this feared bounty hunter actually felt lonely once in awhile?

Prowl found himself sorely missing the sound of Jazz's voice cooing gently in his audio. Yet with every pulse in his Spark, he felt his mate still out there, loving him.

"Why are you telling me this, Lockdown? Why risk revealing that you're flawed?"

Snorting, Lockdown slid off the table. "Because I thought you'd be more willing to hear me out if you knew."

Prowl scooted over an inch when the other mech settled down beside him.

"So," Lockdown finished off his coolant, "How far blind are you? Just missing your eyes?"

"No eyes, no visual processors. I have absolutely no way to detect light the way you can." Prowl figured he might as well be open about it. "You?"

"Melted all the way through. Can't hear a thing. I'm lucky to be alive. Had a medic attempt surgery to fix the damage. He saw there was nothing left and I saw the big, red X stamped on my data pad. That X is death. So I ran. The Decepticons took me in, gave me the upgrades to let me function normally and I keep them quiet about my ears by bounty hunting. They don't care as long as I deliver. I learned to like the job."

So Lockdown was the victim of the worst possible blackmail. Like Prowl, he did what he deemed necessary to survive.

"If I was a real slagger, I'd turn you in if you refused to come along with me. But I'm not. I go by the same morals you do, so that's why I'm  _asking_. It's your choice."

"I can't leave Jazz."

"Don't you think it's ironic that you're fucking a member of the very faction capable of euthanizing you over your flaw?"

Prowl felt himself smile in spite of Lockdown's crude words. "You have no idea. You don't even know our story. Being in love is--"

"Bah!" Lockdown snorted. He crushed his coolant container and tossed it into a corner, where it loudly clanged against the walls and floor. "You're a freak that got lucky. You don't know what ugly is until you've seen my face."

Prowl wasn't blind to the unsaid meaning lingering like stitches between Lockdown's words. "I wouldn't win any beauty contests either without my visor. Someone who really feels for you won't  _care_  about how you look. Jazz...he kisses where my eyes should be. He kisses the ugliest part of me and calls it beautiful. Maybe if you found the right person--"

"Maybe I like looking ugly," Lockdown was smirking again. "And, Prowl, you loved having those other mods. Artificial audios aren't quite on the market yet, but I could give you working eyes. Some wiring, some processor attachments and--"

Prowl just shook his head and laid his hands in his lap. "No."

"Why not? You'd improve yourself."

"My flaw is part of who I am. It's shaped how I live, how I fight. Take it away and everything would change." He turned his head, following Lockdown when he heard him slide off the table and pace the room.

"You live in shame. I saw how scared you were when I walked in here. You almost dumped your sludge all over my trophies at the very  _idea_  that I'd seen behind the visor." Lockdown spoke the truth and Prowl nodded, his mouth twisting sternly to one side in reluctant agreement.

"So do you," Prowl pointed out. "You hide under your mods, your big ship and your title as a bounty hunter. You're so afraid Megatron will talk that you go around, hurting people and stealing their personal modifications to show off your battle prowess. 'Look at what I can do,' your actions say." He clenched his teeth and felt his back stiffen. Lockdown was bigger than him, but the power of his own words gave him the sensation of towering, "You tell me I live in shame when  _you_  can't stop adding parts you don't need. True, I experienced the rush of new parts improving my audios and physical strength. And in doing so I hurt the same organic creatures I try to protect. I got careless. I got reckless. Worst of all, I got arrogant. It's not worth it."

Lockdown was suddenly upon him, face to face, and his scrap yard scent curled like smoke around his voice. "Kid, you've never seen what they do to people like us! I lived through the war, but I've seen them nab flawed bots trying to hide among the able-bodied." Lockdown's bottom jaw grew so tense it rattled, "They cuff you. They drag you away and shove you down on your knees in front of whoever is in charge. They expose your flaw to everybody--and they all boo and jeer and throw scrap at you until the boss bot of the day tells 'em to stop. Sometimes they throw you in a cell for a few days, but sometimes they rip your Spark chamber open and squeeze the life out of your Spark right then and there. It's a painful, ugly way to die--I haven't seen a mech yet who hasn't dumped all his sludge and lubricant while simultaneously vomiting up everything he consumed that day. It's sickening. You die covered in your own bodily fluids, Prowl. You die screaming. You die to the sound of laughter. There's no  _dignity_  in that! There's no dignity for  _us!_ "

They were hideously true words that thrummed against Prowl's deepest fears. But it scared Lockdown as well. There was no denying the truth they both faced if the wrong person discovered they didn't fit society's idea of  _normal_.

"So...still gonna pass on the eyes?"

For several seconds Prowl considered it. To not worry if his visor popped off in battle. To have no headaches when his oscillators overheated. To look up and  _see_ Jazz smile...

...but eyes would subject him to seeing the ugly along with the beautiful. He'd soon find himself making the same appearance-first judgments everyone else made. People often said Lockdown looked like a walking scrap pile, but he certainly didn't  _sound_  like it. His voice reminded Prowl of a resin coated glove thrumming cello strings. He talked tough, he acted tough and, yes, he probably looked tough, but at his core he harbored the same terror Prowl did the day he escaped the scrap yard. The shame of his flaw prevented him from loving himself as he was, so he hid it all behind modifications, upgrades and a big, fancy ship.

Self love wasn't easy for Prowl to come by, either. It was through Jazz constantly loving and accepting him regardless of the flaw that he realized he wasn't an ugly, deformed  _thing_  to  _everyone_. One person out there reminded him daily of how beautiful and amazing he was. While a single entity wasn't the entire world...it felt nice to know the  _entire world_  didn't frown down upon him.  _One_  person made that difference.  _One_.

Lockdown did not have that, and Prowl didn't have to see to know he would've eventually become just as bitter.

"Then I pity you, Lockdown," Prowl said softly.

"I don't want your pity!"

"It's not because you're deaf."

Lockdown scoffed. "Then what?"

"It's what you've let it do to you." Prowl stood up, keeping his hand on the table behind him as a reference point. "Maybe you can't fully grasp the sound of a bird singing or rain beating on a window, but you still have your other senses. You can still observe the colors of a nebula or the majesty of a sunset. You don't need to hear to enjoy those."

Again with the snort...Prowl started to hate that noise. It sounded like a door slamming between Lockdown and the words he didn't want to acknowledge. "I've got a question, Prowl."

"Okay."

"Is everything black to you?"

Prowl smiled at that. "Is everything silent to  _you?_ "

"Wouldn't know. Never heard silence. Ahhh..." Lockdown chuckled and Prowl heard him shaking a finger. "I see what you're getting at."

"Good. Now," Prowl held his hand out, "Return my visor, please. I don't feel comfortable in here without it."

"Point taken," Lockdown sighed, and Prowl felt the smooth glass being laid on his palm.

A quick fingertip exam told Prowl his visor was undamaged. He slid it over the port pins on the bridge of his nose and relished feeling his oscillators in action again. There wasn't much to see--Lockdown's ship tended to be dark except for light from the main monitor. Prowl used that light as a reference point for the rest of the room.

Lockdown stepped into the white light of the computer screen. Because half of him stood in shadow, Prowl's visor only detected half an image while the rest was a void. Like viewing a crescent moon.

"I think Jazz sees the same thing in you that I do," the bounty hunter said softly. "He's a lucky guy."

"I like to think  _I'm_  the lucky one," Prowl smirked.

"What's he like in the recharge room?"

Of all the obnoxious...Prowl's almost-respect of Lockdown slipped down a few notches. He tightened his lips and said, "I won't answer that."

"Bet'cha he's a screamer."

"Is it really your business?"

"You probably are, too." The smirk was audible in how his voice hissed like a serpent.

_Oh, shut UP already!_  Prowl gritted his teeth so he wouldn't say something venomous. "Why do you want to know?"

"Curiosity, I guess. You're so quiet. Can't help but wonder if you have a wild side hiding under all that armor."

Prowl's mind drifted to last week, where Jazz used his mouth and processor over matter to render him a writhing, moaning mass of sensation. Of course, nothing beat the sounds Jazz made during the entire process of intercourse. With his voice alone he always let Prowl know exactly what he liked, especially--

"Okay, okay. I'll ask a non-sex question."

"Huh?"

Lockdown leaned over until their faces were inches apart. "What made you tell your secret to a non-flaw?"

The inquiry slipped like smoke into Prowl's consciousness. "I-I don't know. I just felt I could trust him. When I first came to consciousness, I was in a compactor about to snap shut around me. I screamed. Someone pulled me out and made a move to shut me down...I told him not to. The person let me go." He smiled, "That scrap yard worker was Jazz. Neither of us realized this until Jazz brought up the memory. He's my dream mech and I'd go through my life again and again if it meant I'd meet him. Jazz saved me."

No reply from Lockdown for quite some time. Prowl knew he was still in the room because he could hear his hook lightly scraping on the computer console. "Heh, heh...ain't that sweet," he said mockingly. "What do you plan to do if someone rats you out? The law says Jazz is dead for bonding with a flawed freak like you."

"It's a risk we're willing to take." Prowl leaned away from Lockdown's invading presence and sneered, "Why do you keep asking me these questions? When are you taking me home?"

Again with the silent treatment. Prowl felt his bottom lip pout out further than usual as his anguish rose. Flawed or not, Lockdown once again proved what a slimy, business-oriented mech he was.

The ship vibrated under Prowl's feet. He felt the ground tilting as they nosed into the atmosphere.

"Well, guess you aren't going to budge on this issue. You'd be safer hanging with me, buuuuut I'm not so much a jerk to break up your nice little fairy tale. Still...before you go...here's a little message for how stupid you are."

"What do--"

Prowl's world rang as a fist connected solidly with his jaw. The blow sent him staggering into the computer console behind him. Next thing he knew he was falling. No sense of direction, just the wind roaring by. He seemed to fall forever before he landed on his back in a tree. The impact bent him backwards unnaturally, snapping his equivalent to a spine. Pain lanced through his chassis. He crashed through the branches to land facedown on packed dirt.

The first thing he tried to do was plant his hands on the ground and push himself up.

A sickening clank sounded and Prowl felt something sharp jab his back from the inside. His upper body collapsed forward. He suddenly found his forehead on the ground while his legs were still lying flat. No one's body bent that way! He tried again, thinking it was a fluke. Something inside him snapped. Agony paralyzed him, his oscillators firing random patterns that added to his nausea. His consciousness flickered and everything came to him in flashes.

...the tap-tap of a woodpecker...

...his distress beacon beeping...

...his fuel tanks expelling the coolant he drank...

...A voice from somewhere far, far away and too muffled to identify, "Prowl..."

A thumb brushed where his left eye should've been. How did he get on his back? Where was his visor?

"Jazz?"

"It's--"

Prowl started to vomit again, and he felt someone push his head sideways so his emesis wouldn't jam his intake system. The dirt was wet and smelled like coolant. He flailed until his fingers caught hold of a face. He let his hand crawl over a soft, curved mouth and smooth cheeks, then shifted up to feel a helm topped by pointed ear finials.

_Not Jazz_...

His other hand shot out into empty air. Jazz...where was Jazz?

...more flickers, scraps of conversation and voices...

"...fall shattered his back struts. His wiring is all that's holding him together." Ratchet spoke. "I'm doing what I can. We may need to use the key."

Prime's voice replied, "Just keep him comfortable."

Reality flashed again.

Someone was holding his hand. He squeezed it. Full lips grazed his audio. "It's me, Prowl."

_Jazz_... All his fear disappeared in the comforting presence of his beloved bond-mate.

"Jazz," Prowl choked out, "Jazz...I'm sorry for--"

"Hey, don't worry about it. Aw, shhh, it's all right, buddy. Magnus ain't angry anymore."

"But I--"

Fingertips stroked his cheek, "Hush. It's  _fine_. Now take it easy. You're still in rough shape."

Everything grew silent and still again. The next time he roused, he ached even worse than before. Blinding pain...or would have been if he had sight.

Jazz was right there to hold his hand when he moaned.

"Hey, gorgeous. I'm still here."

"I...love...you," Prowl whispered.

His bond mate kissed him softly with trembling lips and touched their foreheads together. "I love you, too."

"Who came? It...wasn't you..."

"That was Optimus. Your visor came loose when you fell. I got there right when he was puttin' it back on for ya. It's still there. Nobody else knows."

Prowl's jaw shuddered. Tears would've poured down his cheeks if he had eyes to cry with. His rational mind refused to recognize Jazz's words. Fight or flight took over.

"I must escape." Prowl struggled against Jazz's hands. The pain in his lower back meant nothing. He had to run away!

"Prowl!" Jazz pinned his shoulders to the table, "Prowl! Stop. Nobody's taking you anywhere."

"I don't want to die!"

"You won't."

"I'll be taken. I'll be  _taken!_ "

"No. Prowl, listen to me. If they come looking for ya, I'll tell 'em you aren't here."

"No!" he twisted and searing agony ripped through his body. All of a sudden he felt many hands on him. He cried, begged and implored to be released. He was still struggling when the warmth of an EMP generator silenced everything.

The next time he came online, it was one sector at a time. He knew immediately that the key had been used because a surge of power coursed across his electrical system. Annoyingly, his visor was the last thing to activate. He turned towards where he thought everyone would be, but found only Jazz standing over him.

"That key is going to put me out of a job," Ratchet was grinning from across the room. "Welcome back, kid."

"Thank you." Prowl said. "Where is everyone?"

"Hangin' back. I figured it'd be easier to wake up without a ton of people crowdin' ya. I know you hate that. Now, Ratchet's headin' your way."

Jazz had scarcely finished speaking before Ratchet's rough voice cut in, "Think you can stand up?"

Prowl got up without a problem. He tipped himself backwards into a graceful handstand and smiled. "I feel great. Thank you." He let his feet touch the floor and stood up without so much as a twinge of pain. Memories of what happened came back to him.

Lockdown's deafness. Their conversations. How bitter the other mech was about his disability. And something else.

Optimus.

Prowl turned and wrapped his arms around Jazz's waist. This whole experience left him emotionally drained to the point that he felt like recharging for a week. How could he face his commanding officer? Would Optimus look upon him with pity?

Jazz encircled him in a tight embrace. His fingers trembled. "I thought you died in that explosion. I thought you  _died_ ," he whispered, "Primus, Prowl...I don't know what I'd do without your smile."

"Jazz..." Prowl pressed himself harder against Jazz's chest. His thoughts cut off when he felt a line of solder on his lover's left hip. "What's this?"

"You were kinda out of it before Sari used her key. You freaked and tore wires in your back. Ratchet had to replace 'em. I told him to use some of mine. He took a few from both hips, where I got a ton to spare." Jazz's smooth voice sweetened into a smile, "You sexy fragger, you just keep taking pieces of me. First my Spark, now my wiring...and I ain't complainin'." He clicked his tongue, a secret means of telling Prowl when he was winking at him, "B'sides, now I can brag to people that I'm always inside ya."

"You have a one track mind," Prowl groaned good-naturedly, and Jazz's melodious laughter rippled through his audios.

Ratchet made a stealthy exit. Prowl heard him sigh happily about young love and how he missed the good old days.

Jazz's laugh slowly quieted and the silence let Prowl think deeply about Lockdown. What kind of world would it be if he couldn't hear Jazz's beautiful voice?

"Lockdown...he's..." Prowl listened very closely before whispering, "flawed."

"Eh? Really? What's his issue?"

"He's deaf. 'Deaf as a post' in his words."

"Wow." Jazz rubbed the back of Prowl's neck. "Never woulda known."

Prowl relished the contact and mirrored it on the small of Jazz's back. "That makes him and I brothers in a way. I can't turn him in when--"

Two fingers rested on his mouth, quieting him. "Say no more. I get it."

Jazz always could guess what he was thinking. Prowl relished that.

"I need to face Optimus."

Soft lips kissed his audio. Reassuring hands continued their relaxing circles on the back of his neck. He could smell the rust stick Jazz recently consumed and turned, burying his face in the other ninja's smooth throat. It was a tremendous relief to feel those wonderful arms around him again.

When the world rose like a tsunami, Jazz was Prowl's high ground. Nothing could touch him here.

"I dunno if you remember me telling you, but Optimus and I talked a bit and he wouldn't turn ya in, not even with threats of death." Jazz said.

"I don't remember much after Lockdown kicked me out of his ship." But he did remember feeling Optimus' face and hearing himself tell Jazz he loved him. Come to think of it, those were the  _only_  clear memories he had, likely a result of his processors taking such a hard shock.

Jazz sent reassuring pulses across their bond and Prowl's fears gradually laid down. "I'll let you two talk alone in private."

Prowl nodded slowly. He'd be more nervous if he wasn't so exhausted by everything. He shut off his visor to ease some of his tension and sat down on the makeshift medical berth, which was really a disconnected conveyor belt leading to another room. Jazz's footsteps retreated through the door and the only sounds left were laugh tracks filtering in from the TV, which was located in the main room.

Soft tapping approached. Prowl knew the cadence of everyone's footsteps. Optimus had a confident, though slightly heavy walk that, despite not shaking everything like Bulkhead, still carried the weight of the world. Deciding he didn't want to appear an invalid in any way, shape or form, Prowl got to his feet just as Optimus' body blocked the doorway.

"Prowl."

"Sir," Prowl stood at attention.

"At ease." Optimus replied, and the door clicked shut.

Prowl's nervousness sent uncomfortable ripples up his newly repaired back struts. He heard the conveyor rattle as Optimus leaned against it.

"Jazz tells me you know what I saw."

"Yes."

"Good." Optimus made no noises to indicate his movements. "I can't believe this. You..." he chuckled, "...you really had us all fooled, Prowl. I'm pretty good at figuring out secrets--but not this one. There I was a couple weeks ago, talking about how I'd admire the mech who could adapt so well. Prowl..." Prime was smiling, "It's an honor having you on my team."

Such a compliment should've made Prowl twist around shyly and say he was grateful. At the same time, it annoyed him. He lived his life and did his job, why did that need to be complimented? If he went up to every sighted mech he saw and said they were amazing for being able to tell red from blue, he'd get strange looks because using vision wasn't anything remarkable. But it was when  _he_  did because  _he_  didn't see in the traditional sense.

He swallowed a derisive snort and replied, "Thank you, sir. But I don't expect any special treatment or anything. I-I'm fine without extra assistance."

Optimus chuckled and pushed off the conveyor belt. "I know you can take care of yourself. You're one of the best fighters I have around. I'd hate to...uh...cramp your style."

Bumblebee was rubbing off. Prowl chuckled and decided to admit, "I think my only issue is reading small text. Fortunately, this planet accommodates their blind and I have mastered their tactile reading system. They call it Braille. I use it for leisure, mostly. Um--" he faced his commanding officer, "you aren't going to tell the others, are you?"

"Definitely not. Who knows and who doesn't is up to you."

Relief flooded him. "Thank you."

Optimus came two steps closer. Prowl sensed the curiosity as a nearly physical aura surrounding his leader. He turned his head to the door. Closed and locked. Okay. Facing Prime again, he removed his visor.

"I have no eyes or visual processors. I stumbled upon the records of my creation date and discovered the protoforming equipment malfunctioned. It's what Jazz and I were arguing about before the blast hit."

"Prowl!" Optimus sounded alarmed, but Prowl kept talking.

"Four other gestalts like myself were spit out the day I was born, but I'm the only one who survived. I had four blind brothers that never obtained a Spark. Four nameless brothers that I can not even grieve for."

"I'm sorry." Optimus said, and it wasn't forced. His demeanor transformed from upset to sympathetic. He laid a hand on Prowl's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Anything else I should know about?"

For a moment Prowl pondered telling Prime about Lockdown. Then he closed his mouth and decided against it. "No, sir."

If Optimus caught Lockdown and had him arrested, it wouldn't be because of his flaw. Prowl knew he himself could never, in good conscience, turn the bounty hunter over to the authorities. Flawed mechs were all brothers, bound by the flaws that made them ugly sins to society. And brothers did not rat each other out.

"All right then." Optimus relaxed and his hand moved away. "Prowl, listen...I'm not Ratchet, but I know a thing or two about electronics. If you--you know--need your visor repaired, I can handle that for you. All you have to do is ask."

This time Prowl was genuinely grateful. He always did fear dealing with a major visor malfunction and considered himself fortunate he hadn't had any. "Thank you, sir." He slipped his visor back on. "I'll definitely take you up on that if it's ever necessary."

"Great! So--"

There was a crash and Jazz's laughter muffled through the closed door. Bulkhead said something impossible to hear, Ratchet cussed a storm and Bumblebee joined the guffawing.

Prowl grimaced, "Better check that out."

Optimus was already at the door. He opened it and Prowl heard something splatter on his armor.

"Flux fight!" Bumblebee yelled.

Prowl wiped a stray blob off his cheek. They wanted a flux fight? Fine. He peeled the ooze off Optimus' chest and leapt into the rafters. He could track everyone except Jazz without turning on his visor. With a grin, he aimed for the loud thudding and caught Bulkhead full in the face. Half a second later, fingertips spread flux across his bottom lip and a full mouth kissed it right back off.

"Gotcha," Jazz cooed in a voice as creamy as melted wax.

"Oh?" Prowl smeared a good chunk across the other ninja's chest. That kiss left him buzzing inside and he knew there was only one way to find relief. "Leave it. I'll clean it up later."

"Ooh...I love it when you get kinky. Wanna ditch this mess for some alone time?"

Prowl's smile said it all.

.o

In the wilderness, Lockdown brooded.

He sat alone on the bank of Lake Erie, where the vibration of waves crashing to shore sent ripples through his legs. Various colorful birds circled overhead, their beaks opening and closing. A glorious sunset turned the sky orange and the thickening clouds deep red, but the figure sitting there paid no attention to it. Slightly warm air wafted off the glistening water. Everything smelled like wet earth and grass.

A conversation still haunted him:

_"...I pity you, Lockdown."_

_"I don't want your pity!"_

_"It's not because you're deaf."_

_"Then what?"_

_"It's what you've let it do to you. Maybe you can't fully grasp the sound of a bird singing or rain beating on a window, but you still have your other senses. You can still observe the colors of a nebula or the majesty of a sunset. You don't need to hear to enjoy those."_

What Prowl didn't know was how much Lockdown enjoyed looking at  _him_. He'd openly stared at the small, svelte black and gold ninja who was molded to perfection...all except for his missing optics. Prowl's parts  _matched_. He moved like a dancer when he fought. He was music for the eyes.

And that damned, no-good Elite Guard ninja had him.

Lockdown's eyes did not register the deepening colors on the western horizon. He sat perfectly still, letting the wind brush against his painted cheek.

A light brown mourning dove perched on one of his shoulder spikes. Its throat puffed out and faint trembles raced through its body. The song it sang went unheard. It would always go unheard, just like his feelings.

Movement in the corner of his eye. He was glad to be inside the holographic field created by his ship--whoever was here wouldn't spot him moping by the lakeside.

Two figures darted over the riverbank and toppled across a fallen log. Lockdown zoomed in on them. Prowl spread out over the log while Jazz lined up their ports. Then their sparks illuminated the deepening evening glow. Their joining produced a miniature supernova. From there it was just their hands moving, lips touching lips and Prowl's heels silhouetted against the lake. Ravenous...their love was ravenous.

Sneering, Lockdown stealthily brought his hand up to his shoulder and captured the dove in his fist. The tiny, soft creature writhed and wriggled. Its miniscule heart throbbed in terror. Such flawless beauty, and its voice was lost on him.

Jazz's lips moved as he jerked in overload and Prowl lovingly stroked his cheek. Suddenly, Prowl tensed. He went from a calm, demure creature to a sexually vicious animal from another world. It was like he held himself under tight control just so his inner beast could burst free at the height of sexual ecstasy.

That day, Lockdown learned the pitch and decibel levels of Prowl's moans...but he would never  _hear_  them.

Prowl and Jazz didn't linger long. Within moments they were up again, walking with their arm around each others' waists. They made their way towards a curl of smoke rising over the trees. Ah...so they were camping out under the stars together.

Lockdown crushed the struggling bird. Its death created a wet, satisfying pop. His heart would've felt exactly the same...if he had one. He wiped the bloody mess on the grass, got up and walked deeper into the hologram disguising his ship as forestry. Before stepping in, the bounty hunter turned to glance at the sunset and found it marred by distant storm clouds. The wind changed directions, going from warm to bitterly cold.

"Story of my life," Lockdown scowled as lightning lit the horizon. There was always  _something_  between him and desire.


End file.
